Life and Death
by RavenWing333
Summary: Tintin has a lot of stories to tell. But when a reporter from his past shows up on the doorstep of Marlinspike Hall, he finds that not all stories are fun to tell. T for quasi-violence and paranoia.


**Ok, two things pushed this into my head. One, I found my collection of Tintin comics. Two, I realized there was a horrid lack of fanfictions about this wonderful series. So. Without further ado, THIS.**

I was sitting in a tree in the middle of the forest on the Marlinspike grounds. My favorite, to be exact. I adored this tree, because it reminded me of the tree in the front yard of my parent's yard, that is, before the entire place burnt down.

Smiling sadly while casually reminiscing of the days before I knew of the world's cruelty, I hear the Captain calling for me. How long was I out here again? Oh well.

I wait until he is just past the branch, and grab the branch, hang from it, and do a flip before I land on the ground with a shout of "HERE!" Hey, who said I was never a showoff?

"Give me a heart attack, will ya kid?" He exclaimed, looking winded.

"Eh, no thanks." I say, smile fixed on my face, hoping that the sadness that had permeated my thoughts mere moments ago had dissipated. "I would hate to go on adventures without human contact." I continue, humor dripping through my voice. Captain just looks at me weird.

"Where you…" He pauses, looking confused and shell-shocked, "Crying?" Incredulity lines his expressive face. I rub my face, trying to figure out if I had truly been crying for the first time in 7 years. _Well crumbs. Stupid traitorous tears._

"No." I furiously denied, even while staring in wild curiosity at the tear dropping off my finger.

"Tintin." He says, in a forceful tone that causes me to look up. "Don't lie to me. You do know that you can't be impenetrable. Some things are bound to be beyond you." He looks me in the eyes, which, by the way, are welling with tears, appearently for the second time today.

"Were you out here to fetch me for something?" I ask him, determined to change the subject.

"Well, technically, yes, but I can go tell the Paris Flash men to go jump off a bridge. Wait. I think I already used that one…" He trailed off, leaving me to chuckle at his antics.

"Which one _haven't _you used is the question, I believe." I offered, causing the serious mood to lighten. "Either way, if you want, I could probably scare them off."

"Now, that couldn't possibly involve that box that says **'OPEN IN CASE OF IRRATATING REPORTERS'** now, would it?" The Captain had been begging to see what was in there since the day I got it. I figured it would be a good distraction.

"Yes, and you will finally get to see what's in it. All you have to do is stomp back in the house and yell something about barnacles and complain about my hiding abilities, and come up to my room. I will be sneaking in the back door. Needless to say, those reporters won't be coming back here any time soon." I watched as he clapped his hands in malicious glee. I am rather sure he will be overjoyed at having his mansion free of a few reporters.

I got up to my room in record time, and I began the setup. The washable black die already soaked my hair and made it so the little cowlick wasn't there, at least for a few hours, so my hair was black, straight, and hanging down. My hair was actually a lot longer than most people think, it just goes up instead of down, which is just another benefit to the disguise. It limply fell down in multiple straight black strands, it hung over my eyes, shadowing them. I put in the contacts, making my eyes blood red, with cat's eye pupils. I got the white stage makeup that Bianca Castafiore gave to me, when I told her of my idea. She was the one who supplied most of the stuff I put in my box. I put the makeup over the majority of my face, and put the black eyeliner and dark grey shadow over my eyes, like Castafiore showed me. Lighter on the eye shadow than the liner, she said, for maximum effect on the reporters. Or trick-or-treaters. I knew everything she taught me would not be used in vain! Even if the purpose was avoidance of a topic. I retrieve the one of the last bits of the makeup, the dark purple lipstick. It was so dark, in fact, that it was nearly black. This was honestly the only part that felt weird to me. Once that was over with, I drew a spider web on my upper cheek, just so, making it embrace my eye. Next, the fake blood was put on so that it looked like tears leaking out of the corners of my eye, sliding down my cheek, and drying before they meet my lips.

Just as I changed into the costume, a tight, but not suffocating, black long sleeve shirt that emphasized the muscles gained from my numerous adventures and a pair of black denim skinny jeans, I began wondering where the captain was. I turn around, looking him in the eye.

"Speak of the devil!" I say with a wide grin, looking at his face in amusement.

"Speak of yourself! WHO THE IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY ARE YOU!" He ended with a scream, causing me to laugh.

"Why, my dear Captain, I did not know that Castafiore's lessons in the art of costume make-up was _that_ good. Honestly, I am rather flattered that my ability in the area fooled you" I say, presenting the work of art with a twirl.

"_Tintin?_" He says, shocked for a moment. "This is your epic plan?" He says, still confused.

"No, there's a bit more to it. I asked Calculus to come up with something that could lower me from a window, by a remote trigger. He came up with this!" I lift a device similar to the things you find in superhero cartoons and slide it on my wrist under the sleeve, fastening it as I go. "You know the batman comics?" After I see his nod, I continue. "Well, there's that thing that lowers him from tall buildings, and allows him to bring him back down, right?" I raise my wrist. "Well, you're looking at it! I had to rig a couple windows with a retractable bar for this purpose, though. Hope you don't mind, but I wanted you to be slightly shocked when this happened. Otherwise, I would have to attack you with makeup." I reach into the box, putting in the retractable fake fangs after putting some fake blood on them and eating a few juicy strawberries, for effect.

"Wow. You really pay attention to detail." He says, staring at me in awe at the foresight.

"Thank you. I would probably be dead by now if I didn't" I tense up slightly, if only for a second, knowing I slipped, but hoping that he would think it was about one of my adventures.

"It's still astounding." He says, jaw dropped.  
"Hey, ask your jaw to say hello to Chang for me." I say, hoping his shock will cool off, but not the pallor. Unfortunately, I was wrong, because he began blushing in embarrassment. "Ah, crumbs. Sit." I demand, watching him comply in confusion.

I fluster in the box of mysterious wonders, picking up the necklace that she gave me with the golden drachma as the pendant, and the fake earring as I went through to find the right shade of white to match his shocked pallor.

"Now, Captain? How good are you at acting?" I ask him as I attack his face, making him look permanently shocked, and then stand back and admire my work.

"Um, in a snap? I would say I'm decent at it." He said, unsure as to where I was going with this.

"Well, you just need to look shocked, sort of open your mouth slightly, you know, scared for your life, but know that there is nothing you can do about it, sort of hopeless." I pause to examine his example, and nod in approval. "Now, after that, just tell them that they should run, and that will be my cue." I finish, and shoo him off to the reporters. I hide the lighter in my hand, and get the powdered sugar, knowing fully that, once this was over, everyone there would either be impressed or terrified by either the transformation or my knowledge of pyrotechnics. Possibly both. _I suppose that's one good thing that came from the orphanage._

I am hanging from the bar, though it is fully retracted, until I jerk it out. I have a hand full of wire, a mouth full of powdered sugar, and another hand holding a small lighter. Not to mention I am hanging upsidedown, black-boot-covered feet on the super-string invention of Calculus'. _Someday these inventions will be the death of me._ I can't help but let my mind wander, not noticing my spinning, or the fact that Calculus just walked by, and was now screaming. Only thing I hear is the Captain saying "_Run._" In a terrified voice, that was slightly shaking, then the screams of "DEMON!" from the great scientist Calculus emphasizing the point. Time for my entrance.

I jerk my body forward, along with the bar, and spin down, stopping right behind the Reporter's faces. One of them looks familiar, though I can't quite put my finger on it. Either way, their rapidly paling faces were a sorce of great amusement for me. I hiss, and they cringe.

Releasing the string, and flipping, landing crouched on the ground, I slowly stand up, drawing out the dramatic effect. Eh, I wasn't lying to the Captain earlier when I said I had a flair for the dramatics.

"Hu-wh-who are you!" the taller reporter, the one I recognized, attempted to demand.

"Call me as you wish, Hades, Osiris, Pluto, Satan. I have had many names over the years." I drawl out, hissing in a way that could only be described as demonic, or a person suffering from a fake fang induced lisp. The latter was my case.

Captain Haddock was looking paler than before, and I caught sight of Calculus and laughed coldly at the sight of him jumping onto the Captains back, shivering. "Foolish mortals. Did I allow you onto my property, petty media-centric dogs? Did I?" I demand, eyes hardening as I stare at the taller reporter, trying to figure out where I saw him before.

"YOU." I say, determined to figure it out. He begins to shake in dread, and I ask, "What's your name." I hiss out the question, hoping to scare him out of questioning.

"Thomas, Thomas Draconis."** (yes, the last name is derived from Draco, from Harry Potter. No, I do not own him, though I wish Draco Malfoy was mine.) ** He says, sounding more resigned than fearful. That spurred a memory.

_I was sitting in a dark room, at the orphanage. Tom came in. I was still new there, so I didn't know much of him. He laughs at my smile. This confused me. He came over and punched me, breaking my nose. The kicks and punches continued. For the first time, Tom nearly went too far. I was nearing death, but my only companion, through everything, my twin, mirror twin, in fact. Scares the crap out of doctors, with his heart on the wrong side and all. _**(By the way, Mirror Twins are real. I know a pair. They prank doctors a lot.) **_ He was the one who finally came to my rescue, and punched him in the face, and kicked him where it hurts the most. The shins.__** (**_**Sorry, couldn't help that part. )**_ That was the day that my brother and I were no longer the same. He didn't know how to cope with what he saw that day. He told me one day that the image of me, bloody and broken on the floor, tormented him every night. Sure, we were still inseparable, and practically one person, but we became opposites, more like two halves of a whole instead of duplicates. He became more pale by the day, dying his hair black, whether it was with ink or die, he didn't care, and his eyes, blue like mine, became icy and sharp instead of warm and soft, and he learned to harness it, I was slightly tanned, with warm blue eyes and our bright red hair staying in its beautiful natural state. We became light and dark, black and white, cold and hot, and Life and Death. We clung to these opposing personas, for they have saved us time and again, until Death Died._

I laughed coldly. "The last time I saw you, you thought you had become a killer, Tom." He paled even more. "Oh, yes. You were coming here for that reason, am I right?Tell me, were you here to apologize? After seven years?" I say, wanting to torture his psychological well-being for what he did all those years ago.

"Actually, yes." He said.

"Why now? Since he is famed and rich from the moon expedition, did you want to befriend him? Claiming that it had tortured your conscious for years, and you just now found him?" I laugh. "How _couldn't _one find the _famed_ Tintin. Especially for an apology!" I let the anger that I had buried for years, take hold. "How did you feel when his twin was killed? How did you feel when you first caught the news of him? Afraid?" I yelled at him.

I decided that he was tortured enough, so I concluded. "Just. Leave. Now. Out of my SIGHT!" I shriek at the reporters, an unearthly sound, and watch them, traitorous tears forming, again, and ruining the demon makeup. I turn and walk calmly into the house.

"Tintin?" I hear Captain calling after me, as I lock myself in the bathroom. For the first time in years, I allow the tears to come. I choke out a sob as I hear Captain knock furiously at the door. I wash away all the makeup, along with the tear streaks.

As I unlock the door and open it, I step aside, knowing that he would be leaning on the door. My theory was proven correct, as he fell on his face in front of me.

"I'm going to the thicket. If you need me, look up." I say, dashing out, desperate to get into the tall and strong oak and birch trees.

I was hiding in the middle of a thick clump of branches, high in the trees, with a notebook and pencil. I didn't have any reports due, so I decided it would be more entertaining to draw. I watch absentmindedly as my hand seems to have control of all motor skills, drawing without my conscious permission. I watch the lines form, slowly collecting, condensing into a form. I realize, after a moment, that I had been drawing my sister. I even got that ice-cold gleam that she always had in her eyes. I miss her. She always knew how to make me smile.

I don't exactly know how long I was in the thicket, but by the time I was calm enough to come down, I was freezing cold, and very hungry. I trudged through the fresh snow, up to the grand doors, hoping Nestor had something warm to eat.

As I walked in the door, I was bombarded by Calculus, who seemed convinced that the demon had eaten me, and I had come back from the dead. That was an entertaining conversation. I finally drifted away from him while his eyes were closed, making me feel cruel, because he already thought I was a ghost.

I wandered towards the kitchen, hoping to find something already warmed. When I finally reach it, I find that I have intruded on an argument between the Captain and Nestor. I decide it's a better idea to just sneak around and get some food, so I dart in, as silently as possible, and grab a thing of bread that happened to be lying out, planning on retreating to my room as fast as possible, however, I stop right next to the entrance. What were they arguing about?

"There's something wrong I tell you! He never just runs off like that." The Captain, presumably talking about my escape from earlier.

"Give him time, sir. He's been through quite a bit in his life. Does it really matter if he doesn't tell you all of his stories right away?" Ah Nestor. Voice of reason.

"It does when one of them upsets him so!" That's just purely captain. I can see him turning his back on the butler and pouting.

"Give him a chance to tell you on his own. You can't force something like that out of him."

"Good words, Nestor." I come out from my hiding place.

"Tintin!" The captain shouted, nearly falling over in his confusion. "Where'd you come from!"  
"That would be telling." I say with a smirk. I pause, my face becoming more dark. "I had a twin. We lived in an orphanage. I was the weakling kid that all the bullies targeted. After one particular incident, he became depressed. Within the year he killed himself."

"Oh. Oh! I am so sorry Tintin! I –" The captain began rambling.  
"I'll tell you more when I feel like it. For now, I just want some food."


End file.
